


Platy

by yeaka



Series: Neon Tetra [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Ears, Animal Traits, Ficlet, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 13:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13272213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: After Verstael’s experiments, Prompto’s more than happy to be in his prince’s care.





	Platy

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is set in the same AU as another ficlet wherein hybrid cat!Prom is Noctis’ pet from Niflheim, but it’s stand-alone and you don’t need to read that for this.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Over the years, Prompto’s had fleeting moments of enjoyment, but most of them were brief or very old, back when he was bigger and more _normal_ , at least relatively speaking—before he was Verstael’s _favourite_ experiment. Even thinking that name still makes him shudder. So he tries not to, and focuses instead on the huge swell of happiness that’s making his heart hammer against his chest. He’s perched on all fours in the middle of a grand, silk-soft bed, nicer than anything Prompto’s ever slept on. He just wants to stretch out in the warm patch of sunlight that’s cast over the end, and he wants to bask, rest, and purr.

But he wants to know his new master even more, so he waits, perfectly alert, while Noctis talks in the other room. Prompto can hear bits of conversation—Noctis is talking to someone called ‘Gladio’ or ‘Gladiolus’ or maybe even ‘Shield.’ It’s the big man that followed Noctis up from the audience chamber. He probably weighs more than Prompto ever did, except his body’s all pure _muscle_ , rippling in sharp tones beneath his stretched-tight uniform. He kept a keen eye on Prompto all the way up, but he wasn’t _mean_ exactly, and even now, he seems to speak of Prompto better than Verstael’s men ever did.

Yet it sounds like he’s cautioning Noctis _against_ Prompto, and Prompto would be a nervous wreck if not for Noctis’ steadfast rejection. Noctis keeps countering that he can handle himself, which should be neither here nor there, because Prompto has no intention of even _hissing_ at his new master. He’s going to be perfect. Or as perfect as he can. The soldiers of Lucis that took him from Verstael’s hold were fairly nice to him, and Noctis actually _pet_ him after agreeing to keep him. Prompto won’t screw it up.

Prompto flexes, shifting on his knees, and is particularly glad that Verstael trimmed off his claws (after he’d tried to scratch the eyes out of a magitek soldier) so that he won’t make holes in Noctis’ sheets. He smoothes out over it, stretching his back, and hopes Noctis hurries back soon. All Prompto’s ever wanted was _friends_ , and maybe he’ll get them now—maybe he’ll even win ‘Gladio’ over at some point. He was so lonely before. But Noctis’ bed smells like him, smells good, and Prompto wants to roll around in it and run out to catch a fish he can drop at Noctis’ feet in eager offering. 

It also helps that Noctis is crazy hot. And a prince. It’s cool that the bedroom Prompto’s in is twice the size of Verstael’s mobile laboratory. But the splendor of it all doesn’t really matter—it’s human contact he wants, whether from a prince or pauper.

Of course, Noctis _is_ both his new prince and master, and when Prompto thinks of that, he straightens up and hurriedly tries to smooth the bedspread back out. He’s _nothing_ compared to a prince, nor anywhere near as hot as Noctis. But he’s determined to be a good pet anyway, to make up for his worthlessness in loyalty and ardour. 

By the time Noctis emerges back into the doorway, Prompto’s worked himself up, and he falls back to hands and knees to promise, “You won’t regret this—uh...” He stops midway, because Noctis introduced himself as _Noctis_ , not as any title, so Prompto doesn’t know how to address him. When Noctis keeps walking over and just sort of blankly _looks_ at Prompto, Prompto flushes and adds, “I’ll be a great pet!”

Then he remembers something that should’ve occurred to him much sooner, and he scrambles right off the bed. Noctis is just reaching it and sitting down as Prompto curls up by his legs. Noctis gives Prompto a look of surprise, to which Prompto whines, “Sorry—is it okay to go on the furniture? I’ll stay off the furniture if I’m not allowed!”

Noctis’ expression clears, and he actually snorts. He mutters, “It’s fine.” Prompto twitches hopefully.

He’d climb back up onto the mattress, except Noctis is already reaching down. He presses his fingers just beneath Prompto’s chin and gives it a little scratch—Prompto coos and leans into the touch.

He never got much attention from his old captors, and Noctis doesn’t seem like the type to give it easily, so Prompto savours every bit he’s given. He purrs as he’s pet, first along his jaw and then behind his ear, then up between them, with Noctis’ long fingers streaming through his hair. The massage is exquisite, increasingly intoxicating—Prompto tries to stay still, but soon enough, he’s squirming, rubbing himself against Noctis’ legs and hand. He feels so _blessed_. 

He listens, dizzy like a dream, while Noctis idly asks, “What am I supposed to do with a human cat? Take you out for a walk, maybe? Wait, no, that’s dogs... guess I’ll have to ask Iggy...”

Prompto doesn’t know what an Iggy is, but thinks he wouldn’t mind going for a walk with Noctis. He’d rather run. Or just dart around for a bit before collapsing into Noctis’ lap for more affection. Or maybe they could stay right here, but move a little over to the left, into that nice patch of sun, and then Prompto could lounge there all day and feel perfectly content. Through a steady stream of purrs, Prompto murmurs, “Whatever you want, Sir.” 

The title just sort of slipped out. Noctis instantly corrects, “Noct.”

Prompto repeats, “Noct,” with a pleased lilt to his voice. Noctis is making it hard for him to focus. 

When he realizes he’s closed his eyes, he peeks one open again. Noct is frowning thoughtfully. He asks after a minute, “Do you play King’s Knight?”

Prompto tilts his head, chirping, “What’s that?” Whatever it is, for Noctis, he’ll try it.

It seems like Noctis can see that, because he dawns a languid smile and says, “Oh man, I’m going to cream you.”

Even though Prompto’s not entirely sure what that means, his cheeks flush, and he says, “Okay.” Noctis grins so handsomely.

Then he withdraws his hand in favour of pulling a rectangle out of his pocket—a phone, Prompto thinks, or maybe one of those tablet things. Noctis starts to shuffle back across the mattress and bids Prompto, “C’mere.”

Prompto leaps up in a heartbeat, more than ready to please.


End file.
